


Crin

by MippyMoo



Category: MassiveCraft - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Cannibalism, Implied Bulimia, Let's go yall, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mentions of Starvation, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Were-Creatures, implied anorexia, mentions of vomiting, this won't end well, trust me there's only two chapters and this is as good as it's gonna get, uhhhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MippyMoo/pseuds/MippyMoo
Summary: Mihail left because he claimed he was going to eat, after explaining what werebeasts were to Mayra, the ten-year-old Vladno girl he was watching. He sighed, thinking about how much he would actually have to tell her.He didn't want to eat. But he had to. Doesn't mean he knew whether or not he was going to at this point.
Kudos: 3





	Crin

**Author's Note:**

> I love!! My new!! Character!!!! lordy. He's the character I've tortured the most so far, honestly. It's bad, but it'll be fine :') I'm sure

Mihail left because he claimed he was going to eat, after explaining what werebeasts were to Mayra, the ten-year-old Vladno girl he was watching. He sighed, thinking about how much he would _actually_ have to tell her.

He didn't want to eat. But he had to. Doesn't mean he knew whether or not he was going to at this point.

His stomach growled in protest, and Mihail rolled his head to thump lightly against the wall he sat against, drawing his knees up to his chest and folding his hands over them. He closed his eyes, sighing and trying to ignore it. He was too hungry to go out and find an animal; he wouldn't even be able to catch one. He had always preferred it to be fresh, too, so anything he found would be rotten, and the thought turned his stomach.

Where he was sitting wasn't helping either. People walked by regularly, their different smells permeating his senses and making him hate himself even more. They were all ignoring the practically-kid who looked like he was about to die of starvation anyway. They wouldn't dirty their hands by trying to help them, of course.

"Hey."

Maybe he was wrong. Not that it would have mattered, anyway.

Mihail cracked open his eyes to look up at the person addressing him. It was (likely) a man, covered in grey and black fur and with large saber teeth sticking out of the top of his jaw at least half a foot long. Maroon-colored cloth served as a sort of loose pants material that covered only down to his knees, and that was the extent of his clothing. He was a _lot_ taller than Mihail, even if he had been standing, and watched Mihail with yellow, slitted eyes. He was holding something that smelled _terrible_.

"Take this," the varran said gruffly, practically shoving it into his face, which only made the smell worse. As Mihail went cross-eyed to look at it, he realized that it was a bowl of what was probably soup. _Margetirita_ , he noted idly in the back of his mind with the part of himself that didn't want to throw up. "Good food. Look hungry." Ah, his Common wasn't that good.

Intensely fighting the urge to grimace and turn his face away, he carefully reached up to take it, wrapping bony fingers around the bowl and taking it from the furred hand. The varran retracted his hand when Mihail had a hold on it, and he straightened out his legs and subtly tried to hold it as far away from himself as possible. "Thanks," he said, confusion tinting his voice and the mask around his nose and mouth muffling the word just slightly.

He expected the varran to walk away after he had taken it, but he stood there, just to the side of him with his arms crossed, an expectant look on his face. Mihail eyed him tiredly. "What?"

"Eat," was all he was prompted. Mihail swallowed, looking back down to the soup. It was a good meal, sure—tomato, cheese, onion, and meat sausage cooked in boiling water made anyone acclimated to life in Crookback Bay's stomach sing—but he could barely think about making it for himself, much less _taste_ it.

He looked back up to the varran, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and grit. He tried to stall. "Why?"

The varran looked him over, arms still crossed. He didn't seem to have a tail, Mihail noticed, but it might be tucked into his pants or his belt like he had seen other members of the feliform race do, in the rare moments he had paid attention to or even seen them. "Dinner. Leftover. Eat."

Mihail wondered why the guy even _had_ vegetables in his cupboards, considering all he had heard of them was that they were content with eating raw meat (he thought with a sort of wry irony). So he had made dinner, had leftovers, and saw the starving-looking ailor outside. Maybe his girlfriend had told him to go out and give it to him. That was the more likely answer. Or maybe he was trying to be a white knight.

The Ânia slowly panned back down to the bowl now sitting in his lap. It was warm. And, honestly, what was worse: eating some of it for show, or potentially getting a broken nose from the big, muscly tiger-man who seemed so stubbornly adamant about seeing him try it? And he meant well, even if Mihail _were_ the completely wrong person to give this to.

Mihail steeled himself and moved to reach both hands behind his head and unclip the mask from around his face. He closed his eyes just before it came off, and he carefully set it aside, tucking it under his leg opposite of where the varran stood while it clicked in protest, the gears inside the intricately-made face mask slowing to a halt. It wouldn't be great for two hundred and fifty regals to go down the hole if he stole it. His eyes still closed, he reached for the bowl, eventually grasping the warm ceramic, and brought it up to his mouth. He brought it to his lips, tried not to breathe through his nose, and opened his mouth just the smallest bit to allow some of the broth to hit his tongue.

He had to force himself not to gag. It tasted like oil, slippery on his tongue and coating the inside of his mouth. He immediately knew he would have to wash his mouth out as soon as he could, void, even with the bay water, to get the taste out. He bristled, taking the bowl away from his mouth and keeping his eyes squeezed shut. He held it for one second, two seconds, before swallowing it quickly to give the impression of having tasted it.

And spirit forbid if he looked up, because then the varran would _see_ , not the disgust at the food but what Mihail had been hiding, beat the shit out of him, toss him into the bay, and spit on him on his way out. Or worse, drag him somewhere and have all that happen but much worse. After all, you never knew who was or wasn't mundane (or, void, a vampire) down here, even if the population of aberrants was phenomenally higher here than in town.

The varran didn't move from where he stood next to him, and Mihail knew he had to say something. He opened his mouth with effort indicative of glue sealing it shut and said, thickly, "It's good."A simple grunt came from above him, and the bare paws in his peripheral turned, moving to leave. Mihail only moved after he couldn't hear the light footfalls anymore, and he shuddered a sigh, leaning back and placing the bowl to his side. He pushed it away as far as he could without moving much, because _spirit_ was he going to vomit if he moved too quickly. He let out a horrible retching sound that definitely got him a look or two from people still passing by, but nothing came up. He was going to regret that later.

Only as soon as he was sure he wouldn't be sick did he reach for his mask, tugging it out from under his leg and strapping it back on. A few clicks, and it started back up again, making minute though consistent ticking noises that only he could hear. Only then did he trust himself to open his eyes, and only then did he push himself into a standing position, leaving the soup on the ground.

He couldn't wait any longer.

**Author's Note:**

> ;))) yeah it's getting a lot worse there's gonna be death


End file.
